The rose garden was nice. I stopped multiple times to smell the flowers. There is a beautiful bridge that crosses a small pond along the outskirts of the park, where I sat down for a little bit trying to cross fertilize flowers that I had picked up along the pathway. The park was scattered with joggers and marble heads of profound people lost in history...making them profound to historians and the dead.
I walked down Liberation Ave. towards the Cemeterio de la Recoleta where all of the dead have mausoleums where they contemplate the true importance of the profound people, who have marble heads in the Rose Garden, while sleeping permanently. Some, mostly historians, would consider the majority of the dead in this cemetery to also be profound. I on the other hand, after seeing their coffins inside the spider webbed doors of the crypt, consider them to be profoundly dead.
Walking around, I saw a number of tourists standing beside a marble tomb. I walked around the back way, noticing a tomb that was falling apart and happened to have a skull and crossbones with only two halves of a femur. I paid my respects while taking a picture and walked further down to the tourists.
Standing beside them listing to a tour guide, I noticed that they were talking about the tomb being that of Evita Peron. The tour guide was talking about grave robbers who have tried to steal the hands of Evita and her husband. Rumor has it, Evita had stolen a great deal of gold from Argentina during the war and made a vault in the mountains that can only be opened with their fingerprints. Being that the corpses of Evita and her late husband are resting quietly in coffins, what is not known, is that their hands sit in jars of formaldehyde in order to preserve the delicate finger prints in case a robber happens to get passed the tri-level security system in order to chop them off and open the safe to the Argentine Federal Reserve.
Walking again, I kept looking down at my Mistral shoes. I am quite impressed with the lavish style that they bring to my wardrobe, however, the comfort level had quickly worn off on the cobble stone sidewalks of Buenos Aires. Nonetheless, they did their job and directed me to Freddo´s, where I comfortably ate a quarter kilogram of Banana Split, Dark Chocolate, and Samboyon ice cream.
After indulging in heaven, I thanked Evita and Mr. Martin for the liberation of Freddo in Argentina and continued along Puerto Madero to the Ferry station that takes you to Uruguay. I decided to purchase a ticket to Sacramento de Colonia, Uruguay for the weekend. It is suppose to be a wonderful place filled with history and classic architecture. It will be nice to get the old passport out again; the webs are starting to collect around the edges.
Glamor in the Rose Garden...
